Sphinx's Princess (33 page)

Thutmose leaned forward in the chariot, studying the horses. “They do look done in, don’t they? Now that they’re yours, I ought to take better care of them or you’ll be telling everyone that the crown prince gives second-rate gifts. It might be best if they didn’t pull a loaded chariot all the way home.” He hailed one of our four escorts. When the driver drew up alongside, Thutmose stepped down from our own chariot and beckoned for me to follow, holding out his arms to catch me. I could have dismounted on my own, but I chose to leap into his waiting embrace, my hands clasping his broad, strong shoulders.

We returned to the palace in the borrowed chariot, leaving its driver and armed guard to walk my new chariot and team back. Thutmose kept the horses to a moderate pace, sometimes even slowing them down when there was no real need for that. As we rode into sight of the city, he asked me if I was feeling well.

“That’s a funny question,” I said.

“Not really. You were sick this morning, and I gave you
a bone-shaking ride. You should see yourself. You’re covered with dust, your gown is torn, your hair is flying in all directions, and your face is one big smudge.” He was joking.

“You’re no wall painting yourself,” I said, tossing the jest right back at him. “I was sick to my stomach this morning but I’m fine now. No matter how bad I look on the outside, it has nothing to do with how my insides are faring.”

“And yet if there’s a crack in the wine jug, the wine goes sour.”

“I am not a wine jug.”

“You were last night. It’s a good thing old Ptah-Hotep was able to get you emptied out.”

“Don’t remind me,” I said with a shudder.

Abruptly, Thutmose stopped teasing me. “I should send him to you again when we get home. He can give you another dose of medicine.”

“Why? I told you, I feel better now.”

“Yes, but after the crazy way I was driving, I’m afraid I might’ve made your stomach churn up again. You feel well now, but suppose you don’t feel the effects of all that swaying and bouncing until it’s the middle of the night? I couldn’t forgive myself if you suffered or went sleepless.”

“I’d rather not suffer drinking another one of Ptah-Hotep’s vile concoctions.”

“Not all of his potions taste like the wrath of Set,” Thutmose argued. “I can’t force you to do it, but … I’d feel better if you would.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. Thutmose’s newly revealed thoughtfulness made it hard to tell him
No
outright.

“Think about this as well, then: If you do fall ill again, how will I be able to send you home?”

“Home? Why would you need to
send
me—?”

“I don’t mean
my
home, Nefertiti,” he said gruffly, slowing our chariot to a standstill a spear-cast from the city gate. “I mean Akhmin.”

Tears stung my eyes. Akhmin! For more than a year I’d yearned to hear from them but hadn’t been permitted to receive a single message. And now, to be offered the opportunity to return—!

“Don’t taunt me, Thutmose,” I said, swallowing my tears. “I know it’s impossible. Aunt Tiye would never—”

“She’s in Dendera,” he cut in. “
I
am here and in command. You will sail to Akhmin in three days’ time.”

My arms were around his neck before the last word left his lips, and I didn’t care how many travelers on the road to and from Thebes saw me kiss him.

He hosted another family dinner that evening, though this one was a simple affair—no fancy dishes, no perfumed cones of wax for our heads, no flowers, and no entertainment. When I came in, he rose to greet me and seated me in the fancy, high-backed chair beside him instead of on the low stool among his sisters where I’d been the previous night.

“Isn’t this your brother’s place?” I asked. Amenophis was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fret, Nefertiti, he’ll be here soon. He’s helping me with preparations for some important business that will take place at my audience tomorrow. You can move
elsewhere when he arrives. Can you tolerate being next to me in the meantime?” He smiled.

He filled my plate and my cup with his own hands and urged all of us to eat and drink. When Amenophis finally joined us, I tried to give him his chair but he only shook his head and went to sit with his sisters. He ate and drank very little, and whenever I caught him looking my way it was always with a melancholy smile.

Hathor and Isis be my help
, I thought with growing exasperation.
Now
he’s
the envious one? And after all he’s endured because of Thutmose’s jealousy! Oh, I will never understand boys.

I tried to make things better. I tried to draw Amenophis into conversation. I tried offering to give him back his place at Thutmose’s side. I tried making jokes and recounting Kepi’s horror when she saw how disheveled I was after my morning chariot ride. I tried everything I could think of, but in the end it was Thutmose who was able to conjure a true smile back to his brother’s lips.

“Nefertiti, you’re forgetting something. Tell Amenophis about your new gift.” He beamed at his brother. “Better yet, let me do it. Amenophis, today I made your friend a present of my chariot and horses. She also has my permission to use her gift freely, coming and going with or without an escort whenever she likes; however”—he raised one finger to draw attention to what he had to say next—“I understand that she’s quite the able driver and that you’re the one to thank for teaching her that skill. Therefore I would be very happy if you’d promise me to accompany her on her outings as much as possible—with her permission, of course.”

“Thutmose … ?” Amenophis regarded his brother warily. “Are you really saying … ? Uh, I mean …” He floundered.

Thutmose looked at him with affection. “Yes, I
do
mean it, brother. Consider it my gift to you, and one that’s long overdue. Things haven’t been as they should be between us. If I were to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t want to stand before Osiris with this regret weighing down my heart. Rather than prepare a feast for Ammut the Devourer, I prefer to make amends with you.”

Amenophis stood up and raised his goblet. “May the gods witness the truth between us. Live long, be blessed, and know that I will always be your loyal servant and loving brother.” The two of them rushed into each other’s arms while the royal princesses and I laughed, cheered, and applauded for joy.

The physician Ptah-Hotep came to my rooms that evening after dinner. He was carrying another small clay pot, but this one steamed with a sweet, tempting fragrance. “Lady Nefertiti, I am here at the command of Prince Thutmose, may he live and reign. He has informed me that you had a rather …
unsettling
chariot ride this morning. He requests that I offer you this soothing drink, to assure you of a good night’s sleep.”

I eyed the steaming clay pot in his hands. It did have a pleasant aroma, but I couldn’t get the memory of that morning’s goose-fat-and-the-gods-alone-knew-what-else brew out of my mind. Just thinking about it made me gag all over again. While I was debating what to do, a sleepy-eyed
Nava came padding out of the bedroom, woken by our conversation.

“Thank you, Master Ptah-Hotep,” I said, lifting the drowsy child onto my lap. “But I believe I’ll sleep well enough without help.”

He bowed his head. “As you wish. It is my professional opinion that you would be the better for drinking this—it’s nothing more than milk, honey, and some soothing herbs—but the decision is yours. I can understand your mistrust. You look at me and see a withered old man almost past his usefulness, passing his days by preparing worthless potions that only serve to make you sicker. You are wise to dismiss me. Perhaps your reluctance is a sign from the gods. I should heed it and retire from the practice of medicine, awaiting the day Anubis comes to lead my soul into the Afterlife.”

He looked so aged and doleful that I couldn’t stand it. I took the clay pot from his hands and drank. My heart wouldn’t let me do otherwise, out of pity for the man. Nava’s nose twitched and she stretched out her hands, silently requesting a taste.

Ptah-Hotep smiled. “No harm will come of giving her a sip or two.”

I held the clay pot to her lips. The first taste made her greedy and she would have drunk the whole thing if Ptah-Hotep hadn’t snatched it away from her. He could react with remarkable speed for a man of his age. “I said a
sip.”
He spoke so sternly that Nava jumped off my lap and ran into the bedroom.

“You scared her,” I accused him.

“Lady Nefertiti, I don’t know what that child is to you, but if you care for her at all, you should thank me. If I scared her, I swear by the wisdom of Thoth, I did it for her own good. The most harmless herbs can still have ill effects if you consume too much of them, just as the most wholesome foods will make you sick if you overeat. I have offered you a dose carefully measured to be beneficial for a young woman. It would be too much for a small child. I swear to you by the wisdom of Thoth that whatever sins I may commit, I will never betray my calling as a physician. I would sooner die than give anyone a potion that I knew would harm them.” There were tears in his eyes as he finished.

“I believe you, Master Ptah-Hotep,” I said, and to prove it, I drained the last drop from the clay pot in my hands. The physician was visibly pleased.

“Sleep well, Lady Nefertiti,” he said, bowing before he left me. His words combined magically with the sweet potion, and I fell into a deep sleep the moment I stretched out in my bed.

That night, for the first time in years, I dreamed of the desert and the monstrous lions of my childhood. I stood in their midst, not knowing how I’d gotten there, and watched in horror as they circled me. Their jaws were stained red with blood, their yellow fangs were spotted black with rot, their ribs protruded from their scrawny, half-starved bodies, but their manes were gorgeously adorned with sparkling beads made out of precious gems and gold. When they opened their mouths to roar, all I heard was a low, indistinct
droning, like the chanting of priests from deep within the god’s house.

As they drew their circle tighter around me, I felt the sand beneath my feet give way. I sank slowly, unable to fight back, or run away, or move a finger, or even scream. When the sand reached my chin, I saw their looming faces ripple and begin to change like long ago, before I’d found the magic to overcome my nightmares. I waited helplessly for them to become sphinxes and devour me.

Up! Get up!
A gigantic voice boomed through my dream. The lions’ changing faces became featureless disks of polished bronze, mirrors that flashed my own slowing drowning image back into my eyes.
Get up, Lady Nefertiti, and face your crime!

I gasped, inhaling dream-sand, and woke to find myself on my feet, held captive between two palace guards. A strange man who smelled strongly of incense stood in front of me, the pottery lamp in his hand casting weird shadows on the walls. He was hairless, well-dressed, and his glittering collar was adorned with a massive golden image of Amun.
A priest?
I thought, still half-mired in sleep.
What’s a priest doing in my dream?
But when I tried to ask him what magic he’d used to save me from the hungry sand and the lions, my tongue wouldn’t obey me and my words stumbled out of my mouth as nonsense.

“What are you waiting for?” the priest barked at the men holding me. “The crown prince is waiting!”

“Lord …,” one of the guards said timidly. “Lord, her chief maidservant is fetching her dress. If she is going to stand trial, she must be clothed.”

The priest growled something I couldn’t hear, then bellowed, “And how long will that take? Maid! Hear me! If you can’t clothe your mistress before I count to five, she’ll go before the crown prince and her accusers as naked as the day her mother bore her!”

Kepi came running, one of my dresses draped over her arms. She was followed by my other maids, all of them wailing hysterically. I watched with heavy-lidded eyes as they wept rivers of tears while wrestling the dress onto my languid body, and I smiled because none of this was really happening. The thick darkness beyond the circle of lamplight proved that it was still nighttime, so clearly this was all a lingering dream. If it weren’t, all the noise and commotion would have wakened little Nava, but there she was, still sleeping soundly in her bed.

Yes, it was all just a dream.

“Stop fussing, you stupid turtles. That’s good enough. Bring her!” The priest sailed out of my rooms and we followed him, leaving Kepi and the other maids sobbing in the dark.

I lurched along between the guards, sometimes tripping over my own feet, sometimes treading on theirs, sometimes almost tripping all of us until it got so bad that one of them swept me up in his arms and carried me until the priest glanced back, caught him at it, and cut him to pieces with his tongue. I had to walk the rest of the way, even though it was much slower going.

They brought me to the small, private audience chamber where I’d once spoken with Pharaoh. I recognized Pharaoh’s vizier and two other high-ranking nobles. Judging by
their resemblance to the man who’d ordered me here, the five others present were also Amun priests. The vizier and the nobles were bewildered and sleepy. Their clothing was rumpled, as though thrown on in haste. One nobleman’s wig sat tilted too far down on one side, making him look like a drunkard. The priests, on the other hand, were neatly dressed and seemed to have no doubt at all about why they were there.

Someone had taken the elaborate throne from the great assembly hall and placed it here, between two wall niches that held flaming alabaster lamps. There were more lights kindled along the other walls and held high in the hands of servants. No effort had been spared to turn night into day.

Thutmose sat on his father’s borrowed throne. Head bent, he rested his lips against his interlaced fingers, his eyes lost in thought. He was dressed in the same finely woven white robe he’d worn to public events of the highest importance. His head was covered with the
nemes
crown, a striped ceremonial headcloth adorned with the gold images of the vulture and the cobra, sacred guardians of royalty. Its long sidepieces trailed down his chest, flanking his immense jeweled collar. The scepters that were ancient symbols of Pharaoh’s authority, the crook and the flail, lay across his knees. His lowered eyes were elaborately, perfectly painted.